The Missing Link Part 2: Occupation
by OzzyJ
Summary: An angst filled New Caprican romance with a sprinkling of mystery and malice…oh and Cylons!
1. Chapter 1

**The Missing Link Part 2: Occupation**

**Summary: **An angst filled New Caprican romance with a sprinkling of mystery and malice…oh and Cylons!

Please read The Missing Link Part 1: Colonisation first; part 2 will make sod all sense if you don't!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters below; I am only borrowing them and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended

**Author Notes:** Hi *waves*

Sorry about the long sabbatical – I have a VERY hectic real life at the moment! (I actually wrote this chapter on a plane, which is the only time I have had to myself since Christmas!)

Good news though - I have the 2nd half of this story planned and plotted. The gap between chapters should be shorter next time - hurrah!

The first chapter is set directly after part 1 and is bit of a scene setter - it kicks off just before the Occupation. The story (which will be much shorter than the first half) will run until Laura and Bill reunite on Galactica – and all loose ends will be tied

I hope you like it, and as always - feedback (both good and constructive) is always craved!

**Rating:** Starts out as a T…but the rating will be increasing in later chapters.

**Word count: **3800 approx.

**Chapter 1**

It was the morning after the night before and as usual, the familiar hustle and bustle of the settlement awoke Laura from her slumber – but this morning the noise from outside her tent seemed considerably louder than normal.

Laura moaned as she gingerly opened one eye – clamping it shut in an instant when the offensive daylight scorched her sensitive eyeball. _'How much did I drink last night?'_

She pulled the blue fleece blanket back over her head and looked at her wrist watch in the dim light, snuggling back into the heat of the mattress when she realised she had at least another 15 minutes in bed before she had to get up for school.

'_The school…' _Laura's eyes flew open. In a sudden rush of visuals her minds-eye recalled her argument with Bill, her drinks with Ellen…her meeting with Vice President Zarek…

"Oh Gods!" She sat bolt upright in bed; the movement causing her head to pound uncontrollably and nausea to set in, forcing her to fall back onto the mattress for solace.

"Oh Gods…" She groaned again, '_What the hell have I done?_' She threw her right arm over her face – hiding her embarrassment from the empty tent.

'_No, no…it's alright. Tom said we should just forget it ever happened_...' Laura reasoned with herself. '…_nobody has to know._..' She anxiously nibbled on her dry, lower lip and frowned. '_Gods I'm thirsty_.'

She reached out blindly with her left arm, knocking over the stack of books she kept on the floor by her bed, before finally finding the cup of water she'd apparently had the peace of mind to place there last night. Laura grumbled at the effort it took to simply lift her head and quench her thirst – but once her lips connected with the metal cup she unceremoniously gulped the cold liquid down; a few droplets trickling down her chin and landing on her night-sweater.

She drained the beaker and flopped back down onto the mattress "I feel like crap." She spoke aloud – internally chastising herself for ever thinking that a trip to Joe's bar would make her feel better about the argument with Bill.

'_Bill…' _A sinking feeling accompanied the nausea in the pit of her stomach as Laura thought of how Bill might react to what had happened with Zarek. '_He'd be crushed._' She plucked absently at the fleecy material of the blanket as she reasoned with herself -_ 'there is no reason for Bill to find out. It was a momentary lapse on my part. It certainly won't be happening again.'_

It wasn't the fact she had almost slept with Zarek that made Laura feel guilty – after all it was Bill's decision to end their relationship. What currently gnawed at her insides was the awareness that she had done it partly to spite Bill. Drunk or not, Laura knew how much Bill hated Tom Zarek – a truth she had been acutely aware of last night when she was straddling the Vice Presidents lap.

She would need to search out Tom today to ensure that what happened between them, remained only between them.

"Ergh…" Laura rolled over onto her side, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body and bunching it in her fist at her chest. _'Just a few more minutes sleep and then I'll get up'. _Her eye lids fluttered closed. '_Maybe I'll call in sick,'_ Laura smirked sleepily at the irony. _'Can't do that without a phone Laura…'_

And who would she tell anyway? Maya had her hands full with Isis and she couldn't expect Tory to cover for her. Tory may have been a great aide, but there had been sheer panic in the young woman's eyes when Laura had once asked her to cover a class. No, Tory Foster was most certainly not a natural with children.

Laura sighed into her pillow. She could just imagine the look of true horror on Tory's face if she was ever asked to take classes for a whole day. '_Now wait a minute…'_

"Oh Gods!"Laura repeated, for the third time that morning. Her eyes snapped open as the memory of Tory catching her and Tom at the school returned_. "_Tory knows!_"_

_xXx_

After suffering yet another restless night's sleep, Bill had hauled himself out of bed shortly after 5am hoping to work some stress out in the gym.

It came as no surprise to the Admiral that worry had starved him of his sleep; he often struggled to switch off when something distasteful impended - and the day ahead was shaping up to be a doozy.

Saul was leaving for New Caprica, Helo was starting his first solo shift as XO and Bill had to spend time in the company of Baltar and Zarek – and all of this was happening before lunch.

"Frakkin' Zarek…" Bill grunted under his breath as his gloved fist connected again and again with the swinging, red leather punch bag. Imagining that each powerful blow was landing on the sneaky Vice President's face was at least helping a little to sooth Bill's rage. Experience had taught the aged Admiral that it was best he expelled that aggression now, rather than risk his fist connecting with the real article at the meeting.

_Thwack!_

Bill danced expertly on the balls of his feet as he laid into the bag like a professional. _'That bastard recruited Wilson.' _

_Thwack!_

'_He was spying on Laura.' _

_Thwack!_

'_He recorded us…'_ Bill slumped forward against the punch bag for support; a bead of sweat trickled from his brow, down his nose and splashed onto the training matt below.

He needed a clear head for the meeting – the desire for revenge would only work to distract him from his ultimate goal; amassing enough evidence to warrant flushing Tom Zarek's ass out of an airlock.

Seeing as tossing traitors into space was a favoured technique of the former president, Bill hoped that the irony of his fate wouldn't be lost on Tom Zarek when he stood awaiting his execution on the wrong side of an airlock.

With a sigh, Bill swung the bag away from his body and resumed his workout.

_Thwack!_

xXx

Tom Zarek ran his tongue slowly over his teeth as he studied himself appreciatively in a tall, cracked mirror that was wall-mounted next to the shower. Several more wrinkles had appeared around his eyes since his arrival on New Caprica, but the supercilious Vice President thought that they quite became him; thought they made him look more dignified.

He drew his lips into a thin line and narrowed his eyes. "Right." He said with finality and nodded to his reflection before turning on his heel and striding quickly from the head and into his office. "I'm heading over to Colonial One now," he addressed his aide Anna, who hovered in the entrance way – clutching a black clipboard to her side. "As our President will undoubtedly be late, I'm going to use that time to see if I can't lessen the Quorum's fears on this Union uprising."

"Felix Gaeta called last night, Mr Vice President."

"Did he?" Tom spoke absently as he searched the small office for his scarf – successfully finding it draped over the back of his chair.

"He said that Admiral Adama has requested an audience with yourself and President Baltar."

"Adama?" Zarek's head snapped up from where he was arranging the woollen material around his neck. "What does he want?"

"I'm not entirely sure sir." Anna shrugged, her barely restrained breasts straining against the tight fabric of her pinstriped shirt. "Mr Gaeta would only divulge as much as to say that it was confidential." She pushed an errant strand of blonde hair back into her up-do and ran her gaze down the cornerless sheet of paper attached to the clipboard. "It's scheduled to take place right after your meeting with the Quorum today – around 11. So I have cleared your schedule until late afternoon."

A tightness began to form in The Vice President's chest; it was always only a matter of time, before the finger was finally pointed at him. Zarek was actually surprised that it had taken The Admiral so long to connect the dots.

'_Adama has no proof_,' the only person linking Zarek to the recording device was already dead.

Adama could speculate all he wanted; without hard evidence Zarek knew that the Admiral wouldn't risk exposing his part in covering up Laura's attempt to throw the election - especially with Baltar in the room.

As he said his good byes to Anna and collected a stack of files from his desk, Zarek smiled to himself. A meeting with Bill Adama and President Baltar; _'this could actually be quite fun…'_

xXx

Hung-over or not - Laura couldn't spend another second in bed.

The realisation that another human being knew she had spent last night 'almost' sleeping with Tom Zarek, was an instantly sobering one. The fact that it was Tory, the one person who had warned Laura about such behaviour, just added insult to injury.

"_And you're concerned that my spending time with The Vice President will, what? Look like I'm 'sleeping with the enemy'?" _Laura recalled how angered she had been by Tory's insinuation at the school yesterday – thinking the idea preposterous.

"_Something like that."_

"_Well, as you are no longer my political aide, my reputation is no longer your concern Tory." _She had snapped._ "And quite frankly I am appalled that you would consider me to be so short sighted."_

Laura cringed internally at the irony as she soaked a washcloth in a bowl of water that had been freshly warmed on her stove.

xXx

After a gruelling session in the gym and a hot shower, the Admiral felt substantially more level headed as he marched purposefully into the CIC.

"Admiral." He was greeted by a proud looking Captain Agathon.

"Good Morning Captain," Bill offered Helo a tight smile. "What's the sit-rep?"

Bill tried to listen as his new XO, who was clearly eager to please, rattled off the condition of various sectors of the Battlestar – but in the back of his mind, the Admiral could only think of Zarek.

Without a shadow of a doubt, the smarmy politician had recruited Officer Wilson to spy on Laura – but to what ends? The recording of their night together contained enough information to do some serious damage to both Bill and Laura's reputation. If that was Zarek's intention - why would he send a copy of the recording to Bill, but not show his hand? What would be the point?

In all of this, the Admiral was only certain of one thing; Vice President Zarek was one sneaky son of a bitch.

xXx

Laura had gotten ready in lighting speed, with the intent of reaching the school early and catching Tory before class. But despite her timely arrival, the entrance to the school was already open; which meant that Tory had beaten her to it.

Laura paused by the doorway and took a deep cleansing breath; her intention had been to catch Tory off guard. She knew that she owed the younger woman an apology for what she had witnessed - Laura acknowledged that the classroom might not have been the best place to…relieve her frustrations.

However, now she'd had time to think it over, Tory's lecture about Laura protecting her political reputation 'just in case' she was once again in the running for the Presidency, had really gotten under her skin.

Although she had fought to remain President; being freed from the constraints of power had allowed Laura to live life the way _she_ wanted. She was no longer accountable to anyone and wouldn't live her life on New Caprica protecting her reputation, just on the off chance that she might, one day, get another chance at office.

Even though there was no denying the regret Laura felt about using Zarek to relieve her frustration at Bill, she had no intention of apologising for it.

Pulling back her shoulders, Laura stepped over the threshold to the school – only to be met with a frosty glare from Tory that instantly dented her false bravado.

As casually as she could, she placed her bag on the corner of the desk and smiled thinly. "You're here early this morning," she observed as the younger woman placed stationary on the desks. "Have you been here long?"

"A while." Tory dropped her gaze to the pencil that she was placing on a desk, before sparing Laura another glance. "I thought you could use the help setting up this morning".

Laura narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms at her chest; wrapping her thick grey sweater tighter around her body. As usual, Tory's words were spoken without an ounce of emotion – leaving the older woman unsure as to whether she was being nice or just plain sarcastic.

Laura glanced down at her wrist watch; it was 06:30 – Maya and the children would be arriving soon.

Due to the sheer amount of pupils attending the school, lessons on New Caprica began earlier than those on the 12 Colonies. The little ones came early and were gone by 10, those of ages nine through to thirteen were schooled between the hours of 10:30 and 13:30, and the teenagers had their lessons from 14:00 onwards.

Teaching students in three hour instalments wasn't ideal, but with the limited facilities on offer; they did the best that they could do with what they had.

Conscious of the time, Laura decided to bite the bullet. "Tory, about last night…"

"Ma'am," Tory halted distributing the pencils and stared intently at Laura. "You made it perfectly clear after school yesterday - what you do in your free time is none of my business." Her tone was bitter; Laura hadn't realised quite how much her response yesterday had hurt Tory. She was taken aback; it appeared that the ever impassive Miss Foster had a softer side.

"That's right Tory," Laura nodded firmly and after a few beats dropped her arms to her side and took a step towards the younger woman, keeping her tone light and calm. "You are no longer my aide; your concern for my reputation as a politician is completely unnecessary."

Tory flared her nostrils defensively and huffed like a spoilt teenager. She moved sharply, continuing to lay out the stationary, but when Laura laid a hand lightly on her forearm - Tory halted her movements at the unexpected contact.

At the younger woman's questioning gaze, Laura continued; "however your concern as a friend - is _always_ appreciated."

As Tory's scowl slowly melted and understanding touched her features, Laura smiled and gave her arm an affectionate squeeze before releasing it and walking back to her desk. "Besides," she twisted, glancing over her shoulder with a wicked glint in her eyes, "I could certainly choose where I decide to spend my _'free time'_ more wisely."

As Laura started to unpack her bag in preparation for the class, she was sure she saw a hint of a smile grace Tory's lips – but the younger woman's expression quickly cooled and she wrinkled her nose, "Tom Zarek?"

"I know," Laura rolled her eyes and sighed, slowly sinking onto her chair. "A temporary loss of sanity, brought on by a cocktail of moonshine and being pissed at…" Laura paused and at Tory's look of confusion, she realised that there was still so much she hadn't told her former aide.

Tory knew little about what had transpired with Officer Wilson and nothing of the recordings.

A sickening feeling formed in Laura's gut as she thought about the device and what private moments the listener would have been privy to. Yesterday, her anger at Bill had stopped her reflecting on such concerns – however, in the clear light of day, the violation of her privacy made Laura's skin crawl.

Not knowing for sure who had been listening, made it worse.

Laura opened her mouth to speak, but as the sound of childish chatter approached the tent - she knew that now wasn't the time. "We'll talk later," she said sincerely, as she hoisted herself to her feet.

xXx

It was only one hour into the meeting and as always, bone-idle President Baltar had already made his excuses and sloped back to his quarters – leaving Tom Zarek in charge.

"There's a union meeting in the settlement as we speak Mr Vice President," Marshall Bagot, the recently appointed Secretary of Labour spoke up. "I don't think President Baltar fully appreciates the seriousness of the situation."

'_That's because your President doesn't give a shit,' _Zarek internalised, however he maintained a stoic expression. "The President and I are aware of Galen Tyrol and the demands he is making on the union's behalf - but at this stage any negotiation is out of the question," he said firmly.

"But Mr Vice President, there's talk of strike action and…"Zarek clenched his jaw as he attempted to tune out the former Virgon delegate. Tom had felt such relief the day The President had decided to change the Quorum of 12. However it turned out that change simply meant reshuffling, and giving current delegates new titles.

'_A united New Caprica_' Baltar had called it, '_there is now no need for planetary segregation_.'

There had been the addition of a few new faces of course; several of the original Quorum delegates had perished in the explosion on Cloud Nine. As Zarek looked on apathetically at Marshall flapping his gums, he gloomily wondered why the former Virgon representative hadn't been one of them.

"No negotiations, Mr Bagot," the Vice President cut the Secretary of Labour off midsentence - irritation evident in his tone. "Why don't we all take a quick comfort break?" He addressed the other attendees, "I want you all back in the room in 10."

A look of relief washed over the faces of all but one of the rooms other occupants and they promptly filed out into a nearby break room.

"Mr Vice President, please..." Of course, the ever persistent Marshall remained.

"Later Marshall, alright?" Zarek held up his hand and glowered at the balding politician, having lost his patience with the man entirely. "Just leave it." With that he walked out of the room, past the other members of the Quorum and opened the hatch; the crisp New Caprican air hitting him instantly and leaving him temporarily breathless.

'_I should have brought my jacket.'_ He mentally kicked himself as he shoved his hands under his armpits to keep them warm; he couldn't bring himself to go back into the room.

From his position on the metal stairway that led from Colonial One, he looked out onto the settlements. The colonials scurried around below; carrying out their miserable routines on the dreary, godsforsaken planet.

He looked to his right - towards the landing area where another transport raptor from Galactica had recently arrived.

"Hmm," Zarek harrumphed as Colonel Saul Tigh walked towards the settlements – luggage in one hand, and his overly familiar wife Ellen, hanging off the other. On his way from the surveillance tent last night, Tom had spotted Ellen drunkenly draping herself over two young miners. He imagined that her blatant infidelity may be one reason the aged Colonel had finally decided to settle.

When the couple embraced and their kissing got heated, Zarek inwardly cringed and looked away - only to realise that from his vantage point, he could clearly see the tip of Laura's school tent. He wondered what she might be thinking at that moment.

'_Maybe I'll pay her a visit later, to apologise for my behaviour last night.' _ He smirked at the prospect; he wasn't sorry at all – far from it. His only regret was not acting sooner or pushing things further – his tall tale about a dead daughter had certainly made Laura more acquiescent to his advances.

'_Or maybe it was just the moonshine?_' He shrugged. It wasn't as if it mattered; whether she regretted what they had done or not – he now had an 'in'. Laura may be embarrassed, she may be apologetic – but if Zarek handled the situation like a gentleman, he could remain in her good graces until she was reinstated as President.

The hatch opening behind him interrupted his thoughts and he spun to see Felix Gaeta poking his head around the corner. "The delegates are waiting for you, Mr Vice President."

"Thank you Felix." _'Has it been 10 minutes already?'_

Zarek sighed and moved to re-enter Colonial One, but the sound of something large entering the atmosphere overhead stopped him dead in his tracks.

xXx

Maya and Isis had left for the day and Tory was on a break; leaving Laura alone with a handful of the younger children to work on their project. 'The Wall of Dreams' was now complete and filled with young hopes; the group were making the finishing touches to present the work to their parents.

Amy Rawlin was among them.

"Miss Roslin?" The young girl asked as she attempted to unstick her fingers from the two pieces of paper she was gluing together.

"Yes, Amy?" Laura enquired over her shoulder, whilst hanging the final piece of artwork on the wall.

"Can Mr Zarek come to the presentation tomorrow?"

"What?" Laura faltered and stopped what she was doing; carefully turning around on the chair she was standing on so that she was facing the young girl. "Why would The Vice President come tomorrow Amy? It's a presentation for your parents, remember?"

"Oh yeah!" Amy responded enthusiastically, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

Laura clambered down from the chair, silently hoping that Amy hadn't already mentioned the presentation to the Vice President. She wasn't ready to face Tom just yet - but when she was, she definitely didn't want it to be at the scene of the crime.

Truthfully, Laura hadn't had enough time to digest any of it. Everything that happened yesterday was an emotional blur; moving from love to disgust – then from anger to drunken lust.

'_What is this to you Laura, really? You just caught up in the excitement of sneaking around again?'_

It was all too much - it hurt to recall Bill's words, to remember the coldness behind his eyes.

'_How could he even think that_? _I have to tell him how I feel.'_

"I've finished, see?" Amy exclaimed, dragging Laura from her thoughts. The young girl thrust her mangled paper creation in Laura's direction and it appeared that for now, the Vice President's attendance at the presentation had been forgotten. "Can we put it up now, Miss Roslin?"

"Yes we can, Amy." Laura smiled warmly, taking the sticky paper chain from the girl. "If you could please fetch me the string and…"

It was in that moment the sky rumbled and the walls of their tent shook; the thin canvass offering little protection from the unforgettable, whine of Cylon raiders in flight.

Panic gripped at Laura's chest – the inevitable had happened.

'_They've found us._'


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Notes: **Sadly, I no longer have a beta for this story – so if anyone has the time and the patience to beta this fic **please** PM me…I would really appreciate it!

Any mistakes below are completely mine!

Okay…I've not watched 'The Resistance' (bad fangirl!), so even though I have tried to keep this story in canon as much as possible – this may stray slightly from what was portrayed in the webisodes…just fyi…

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters below; I am only borrowing them and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended

**Chapter 2**

When they first came for Laura; only one week had passed.

It was a summons that she had anticipated; there was disquiet in the settlements and several cylons had been attacked. In the shadowy corners of the makeshift city, a resistance was building.

Apparently this unrest came as a surprise to their invaders; a race so arrogant they felt they could wander alone through the quarters of their mortal enemy and escape unscathed.

After the first attack, Laura had assumed that it would only be a matter of time before the cylons' tried to get public figures on their side. It turned out, she was right.

They came for her in the morning before school; a cylon like Sharon Valerii, accompanied by a centurion guard. Laura was herded onto Colonial One amongst quorum members, religious leaders and other colonials with influence. Chairs, laid out in theatre style, filled the small conference room and at front and centre stage sat a mixed board of cylons' and humans; headed by the traitorous President Baltar.

Their spineless leader sat central to the long table, slumped in his chair - looking feeble and defeated. To his left was a cylon that Laura recognised as the reporter D'Anna Biers, and to his right sat Tom Zarek.

Zarek spared Laura a glance as she entered the room; his features softening temporarily, before his eyes were once again clouded by rage. This was the first time they had seen each other since that night at the school – their drunken fumble paling into insignificance in the face of their new plight.

Laura greeted him with a soft nod and quietly took her allocated seat - which happened to be situated between Galen Tyrol and Saul Tigh. She offered both men a tight smile, which they returned; all three seemed to find some comfort in the presence of familiarity.

"This is bullshit!" Tigh spoke through gritted teeth. "Any minute now, they're gonna order one of those tin cans to finish us off."

Laura shifted uncomfortably in her chair and threw an anxious glance at the cylon centurion by the entrance to the room. The overhead light glinted off of its metal helmet; its singular red light pulsed back and forth as it scanned the room, poised to attack.

"I'm sure that's not the case, Colonel," Laura said, as much to convince herself as Saul. "Look around – you see who's in here? They need our support."

The Colonel huffed disapprovingly; "they can go frak themselves."

"Thank you everyone for coming," as D'Anna got to feet and addressed the room, the audience fell silent. "After much deliberation amongst our leaders, it was decided that both cylons and humans could happily cohabit this planet. This was a belief system driven by a Six," She nodded towards a tall blonde that was hovering behind Baltar; the very cylon model that Laura was sure she had seen him with before the attacks. "And an Eight named Boomer – to whom I know some among you are already acquainted..."

Boomer looked sheepishly into the audience and her meek gaze was met with angry stares – none quite as wrathful as the glare she was receiving from Galen Tyrol.

"Chief," Laura warned, purposefully using his rank and placing her hand calmingly on his forearm. She could almost feel the resentment coming off of the union leader; an outburst at this stage could be devastating.

"So passionate were they, in their belief that cohabitation was possible; they convinced our brothers and sisters that we would be safe here." D'Anna spoke in a slow and articulate tone – hitting verbs with such emphasis, it was as if she were broadcasting live to the fleet. "Imagine their horror when two of their fellow sisters were brutally attacked by colonials – beaten within an inch of their lives."

Despite her lack of involvement with the resistance movement, Laura knew that murdering the cylon's was never their intention. Why kill something that could simply resurrect? Maiming their enemy was much more effective.

"And for what?" D'Anna pressed on, "their only crime - being too trusting of human kind…"

"You cannot be frakking serious." A muffled voice coming from the end of the table drew both D'Anna's and her audience's attentions

"I'm sorry?" The cylon asked, clearly unsure as to who had spoken up.

"Their only crime?" Zarek erupted, causing a wave of gasps to travel the length of the room. "How can you say that? How can you stand there and dismiss the millions of men, women and children you murdered in the attacks on our home planets?"

"What's the sense in dwelling, Mr Vice President?" D'Anna turned to face him fully, her face tense and eyes narrowed. "If we are to move on, there has to be the realisation that that was then, and this is now."

"Move on?" Zarek got to his feet; Laura had never seen him so angry. "I'm sorry Miss Biers, humans don't forgive that easily."

In an attempt to calm proceedings, one of the short, balding models known as Cavil cut into the conversation. "We all had our part to play in that holocaust," he told the enraged Vice President - elbows on the table, tapping his fingertips together rhythmically. "Both human and cylon alike."

"You can't honestly be referring to the war?" Zarek asked, dumbfounded. "Most of us in this room were children when that battle erupted…"

"That wasn't exactly what I meant…" Cavil threw a sideways glance towards Baltar; who swiftly got to his feet in an attempt to quell the hostility and cover his ass.

"Gentlemen please," The President looked exhausted, Laura thought; tired and unkempt. "We are all here to discuss how to move things forward…"

"How to roll over, more like." Zarek fixed his superior with an icy glare, "without the ability to resurrect, we will never be their equal - we are prisoners here."

"You're free to come and go as you please, Mr Vice President." D'Anna retorted, folding her arms at her chest.

"You've grounded our ships; you're guarding our airfield. You're building a frakking prison! " Laura hadn't known about the prison; if the reactions of others in the room were anything to go by – she wasn't alone.

"We have to take precautions…"

"Bullshit!" Zarek stepped out from around the table, "I will play no part in this façade." He strode purposefully towards the door, but the exit was blocked by the centurion. He turned to D'Anna, "free to go as we please?"

After a beat, with a wave of her hand, the cylon signalled for robot to allow him leave – but Vice President Zarek had one more thing to add, "the resistance is young, Miss Biers; prepare yourselves for the uprising."

With the impact of his threat evident on the faces of his enemy, Zarek turned on his heel and left.

Laura hadn't seen him since.

xXx

Not for the first time since the invasion; Admiral Adama was drunk off his ass.

Despite many attempts to communicate, there had been zero response from New Caprica and the guilt at leaving people behind was killing him – he didn't even know if they were alive. He didn't know if Laura was alive…

He had left thousands of innocent people defenceless against their enemy.

"Thousands of people…" He slurred as he lunged forwards for the half drunk bottle of bourbon that sat on his coffee table; missing on the first attempt.

The skeleton crew on Galactica was a joke. Aside from a handful of experienced pilots and knuckle draggers, the admiral was stuck with rookies; cannon fodder that couldn't find their asses with both hands, let alone wage war.

But what really got to Bill - what hurt him most of all, was the fact that his son had to convince him to jump away.

Lee was right; jumping was the best tactical move.

'_Being too close to people has made me a weak leader.' _

Bill collapsed back on the leather cushions of the couch and swigged unceremoniously from the bottle; a trail of fiery liquid dripping off of his chin. He was a mess.

'_Why did I let Saul go? Starbuck? Tyrol?'_

He thought back to the conversation he'd shared with Laura on the night of the ground-breaking ceremony as they stared at the stars. Bill had been cautious to let his people settle and despite their drug induced fuzziness that evening, Bill could recall Laura's exact words; _'are you going to keep them up there like prisoners? Running around in circles, all night, all day, waiting for the apocalypse?'_

Bill harrumphed and took another gulp of bourbon, _'loving Laura has made me a weak man.'_

But he couldn't help it; he loved her still.

xXx

Several weeks passed, before they came for Laura again.

Since that first meeting on Colonial One, communications between cylon and human had broken down. As their Vice President had predicted; the resistance grew in numbers – even Laura now played her part.

The hollowed out ground beneath the school provided space to stockpile arms, and the daily comings and goings of parents made the school the perfect conduit for information to circulate discreetly amongst resistance members. No words were ever spoken, just notes passed; Laura knew more than most, that tent walls may have ears.

She also knew that it was dangerous; that she was putting herself at risk. As well as Zarek, other key members of the community had been rounded up and shipped to the newly built prison. Some resurfaced after only a few days; fresh cuts and bruises marring their flesh – a new darkness behind their eyes. Some never made it out; Kara Thrace had been missing since the invasion.

Living conditions in the settlements had deteriorated; food stocks had been seized by their enemy and were being used as bargaining chips to control the masses. Disease was rife; dysentery picking off the young and the old alike. Laura seemed unable to keep down even the meagre portions of food she was given and she was growing weaker by the day.

That was how the cylon's found her, when they came for her a second time; sitting at her desk, hunched over a trashcan, dry heaving as her empty stomach contracted again and again.

They burst in to the school unannounced late one afternoon after the children had left; an eight and two centurion guards. "Come with us," the eight told her flatly; seemingly unsympathetic to Laura's sickness.

"I'm a little busy," she croaked, attempting to appear unfazed before once again, gagging into the can.

"Come with us, **now**." The emphasis on the 'now' and the unmistakable sound of the centurion arming its guns made Laura's heart beat faster in her chest – '_do they know I have been helping the resistance_?'

She swallowed hard; she had no choice.

After soothing her queasiness with several deep breaths, she felt the sickness start to subside. Gingerly, she placed the can on the floor before getting to her feet, "well, seen as you asked me so nicely…" Laura mocked with false bravado as she straightened her thick grey sweater and took a step towards the door. "Can I at least ask where we are going?"

"The prison," The eight answered casually, as she lifted the tent flap for Laura to pass through. "D'Anna is waiting for you."

TBC

Thanks for reading!

Feedback is love, people


	3. Chapter 3

Author Notes: Sorry it's been a while…horribly crappy real life stuff got in the way. Thanks heaps to adamalove777 for her first time beta work – you did a fabulous job!

Warnings: A sensitive issue ahead .

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters below – I am only borrowing them – and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Missing Link Part 2: Occupation.

The clanging of heavy metal doors closing behind Laura resonated through every bone in her weary, weakened body. Months of living in tents and years of floating through space had left her feeling claustrophobic; the solid walls and firm foundation of the prison felt almost alien to her.

She was led through a hall; a large room with metal bridges and stairways leading to various sealed door ways with tiny glass windows. Centurion guards patrolled the walkways; marching backwards and forwards – the sound of metal on metal echoing around the vast space.

Despite her situation, Laura was in awe of how much the Cylons had accomplished in such a short time; for a civilisation so young their resourcefulness was truly outstanding. As she was shown into a smaller room, with nothing but a table and two chairs, she pondered how much more humans could accomplish - if they could forego their need to sleep.

The prison was icy cold. Despite being indoors, the heat from Laura's breath clouded the air and she shivered even under her thick sweater. Internally, she questioned if the prison was intentionally cold – further torture for its inhabitants – or heating was merely an oversight.

'_Do Cylon's even feel the cold?_'

The Eight turned and left; disappearing without a word and pulling the door closed behind her. Laura shifted uncomfortably by the table, wrapping her arms tightly around her midriff as she nervously eyed the centurion that remained in the corner of the room.

She felt tired; drained from her sickness. Her legs felt as though they could collapse under her at any moment - yet she was rooted to the spot.

The centurion guard watched her closely.

She wondered if it had the freedom to make decisions or if like the original Cylon was to man – designed to follow orders. Would sudden movement from her result in the robot's guns blazing?

'_What would it matter if it did?'_

Laura prayed to the Gods every day for the fleet to return; for Bill to rescue them all from poverty and pestilence. Yet with each passing day – facing only death and disease - a little of that hope faded.

'_Is this really it? Is this how I will spend the rest of my days?_

Mentally, Laura shook herself.

Galactica was undermanned and the odds were against them – but Zeus would return.

'_He has to…'_

The metal door swinging open dragged Laura from her thoughts and back into the room with a startled jump.

D'Anna entered swiftly; her tall, elegant form was imposing and Laura instantly took a step backwards – her hip connecting painfully with the corner of the table.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Laura." The Cylon offered her a pleasantry before placing an item of clothing on the table.

"You didn't give me much of a choice," Laura said defensively, rubbing her hip bone with her right hand and pointing to the garment on the table with her left, "what is that?"

"I'll get to that." D'Anna pulled out a chair for herself and sat; signalling for Laura to do the same. "Please, take a seat."

"Is that a jumpsuit?" Laura glared down at the Cylon through her glasses; the door to the small room remained open - however that did nothing to soothe her uneasiness. "Am I a prisoner here?"

"Please, Laura - all in good time. Now, take a seat." D'Anna's tone was clipped; her impatience evident.

Laura threw a hesitant glance at the centurion and reluctantly conceded - slowly sinking on to the metal chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Thank you," the Cylon straightened her leather jacket and leant back in the chair, resting her hands in her lap. "Now, do you know why you are here?"

"I can't possibly imagine," Laura feigned nonchalance and mirrored D'Anna'a body language – resting backwards on the chair and crossing her right leg over her left knee. Her mind was reeling; _why was there a jump suit on the table? Did they know that she was helping the resistance?_

The cylon smiled, "you're a respected member of the community Laura – people listen to you."

"I'm just a school teacher, Miss Biers."

"Oh, we both know that you're far from just that." She paused, pursing her lips. "I was hoping that you could help us to…reason with the resistance."

"And why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know…" D'Anna teased. Getting to her feet she strolled slowly around the chair - before clasping the backrest with both hands and leaning in. "How are you feeling, Laura?"

"I feel perfectly fine." Laura lied, keeping her tone measured.

"Really? You don't look fine to me; you look…sick."

"I'm sorry that I didn't make more of an effort," Laura responded sarcastically. "Tell me, does your enquiry into my well-being relate to cylons seizing control of the antivirals?"

D'Anna smiled enigmatically.

"Miss Biers," Laura pushed her glasses further up her nose, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd like to make something clear – if I may?"

D'Anna nodded firmly, "go ahead."

"I neither want nor need your help. " Laura smiled tightly, "and trust me; I have felt much worse than this. So if you believe that you can coerce me into assisting you by using my ill health as a bargaining chip – you are sorely mistaken."

"Duly noted," D'Anna smirked and pushed off of the chair's backrest - shoving her hands into her jean pockets. "But what if the bargaining chip I used was…something more personal?"

Laura stiffened; her nausea returning. "I'm sorry?"

"What if I had stumbled across something in the settlements?" D'Anna sauntered around in the small space – dragging her sentence out for dramatic impact. "Something that could…ruin that _perfect _reputation of yours."

"My reputation is far from spotless Miss Biers – I lost an election remember?" It was already clear to Laura where the conversation was headed; D'anna had heard the recording. "I made decisions that cost lives."

"Yes, as does any leader, " D'Anna came back to her seat, leaning forward onto the table on her elbows. "But they don't all cheat in an election - do they, Laura?"

"No. No they don't, D'Anna." Laura narrowed her eyes – deciding to cut to the chase; she was done playing games, "they don't all sleep with the head of the military either."

She smirked at the look of shock that appeared on the cylon's face as she continued, "so do you have anything else up your sleeve – or am I able to get back to my school?"

"You know about the recordings." D'Anna rested back in her chair, looking a little deflated.

"Yes I do. And the fact that you just tried to use them against me, leads me to believe that you hugely overestimate the popularity of our current President."

"Speaking of The President," D'Anna perked up a little. "What do you think he would do if he knew that you plotted to steal the election?"

"Against my better judgement I was talked out of it; Gaius Baltar won. " Laura thought back to her fight with Bill about the recording; it all seemed so long ago – but that didn't mean it hurt any less. The fact that was the last time she saw him – actually meant it hurt a little more. She recalled that the content on that tape was damning enough to remove Bill of his Admiralty and land them both in jail; but Bill was gone, and in jail she sat. "The worst he could do now… is put me right where I am."

Laura shrugged and unfolding her arms - resting one on the table as she leant in, towards the Cylon. "However just so you know, had I gone through with the plan as intended, we wouldn't be here; trapped and suffering on this Godsforsaken planet - and I certainly wouldn't be having this rather pointless this conversation with you."

"You just made an excellent point."

Laura's jaw tightened; she was perturbed by the swift change in D'Anna's tone – the cylon oozed smugness.

"Put on the suit." Once again, D'Anna got to her feet.

"I'm sorry?"

"The jumpsuit, Laura. Put it on."

"I'm not entirely sure how things work in a Cylon society Miss Biers," Laura raised her chin defiantly, "but where I come from; a person has to be read their rights before being arrested. They are given a fair trial before serving a sentence; I didn't go steal the election - Baltar won."

"Oh sweetie, normal rules don't apply here," D'Anna teased. "You may be a member of a terrorist organisation, after all..."

"A terrorist organisation?"

"What else would you call the resistance?"

"That's bullshit. You have no evidence of that."

"Such language!" D'Anna mocked, but before Laura had even opened her mouth to respond, the cylon continued; "look, we can argue this point all day. Bottom line – you are suspected of being a terrorist, and I am therefore required to remove you of all of your personal belongings. So unless you want to be marched to your cell naked – I suggest you put on the suit." She turned on her heel and closed the door; resting against it – waiting for Laura to undress.

"This isn't about me being a suspect," Laura spat out - clutching the edge of the table, "this is about humiliation."

"You can call it whatever you want."

When the centurion shifted its stance, Laura hastily got to her feet and snatched the grey suit off of the table; "I suppose some privacy is out of the question?"

"You could be wearing a wire," D'Anna said flatly, before adding with a smirk. "But don't worry – you're not my type." She shrugged and nodded her head towards the centurion, "but you might be his."

xXx

They stole her socks and shoes.

As the large metal gates to the prison opened to allow her passage; Laura shuffled towards her freedom on bare feet.

But she didn't feel the cold.

She felt pain in her left shoulder, from where she had been thrown against her cell wall. She felt the sting on her bottom lip where it had cracked from dehydration and trauma.

She felt her eyes start to stream – her vision was temporarily impaired by the change in light. Her windowless cell was always dark; Laura had no idea how long she had been in there - how many days had passed.

The cylons would come every now and again, to ask her a question. She was visited by varying models; mostly the men – once an eight - all asking her the same thing.

'_Who are the leaders of the resistance?'_

All left without an answer – and most left after losing their temper and raising their hand.

But Laura knew that they didn't really expect her to answer the question – she was being used. She was being made an example of; she had known all along that eventually, she would be thrown back into the settlements to deliver their message to the masses.

'_Nobody is untouchable.' _

She wasn't alone in this game – Colonel Tigh was in it with her. His screams had echoed around the prison – his fate, it appeared, may have been worse than hers; his torturers less forgiving.

Maybe he had put up more of a fight than she.

Laura had decided not to struggle – she instead chose to retreat into herself. She thought of her childhood, of her family, of Bill…

Now she found herself on the outside – free to return to the settlements – but without the strength to even get there. Laura wavered; dizziness causing her to slump backwards against the gate. Her legs were unable to support her weight and her aching stomach struggled to keep down its meagre contents.

Laura never thought she would be happy to see Ellen Tigh.

"Oh my Gods, Laura," Ellen was at her side in an instant. "What did they do to you?" The blonde's voice broke with emotion as she moved to help the other woman to stand; a reaction unexpected of a woman so self-obsessed.

Laura yelped as Ellen pulled at her shoulder, "I'm sorry," the blonde recoiled. "I don't want to hurt you…can…can you stand?"

"This side…" Laura croaked as she signalled with her good arm. Her throat felt dry, her voice was hoarse; she realised those were the first words she had spoken since her meeting with D'Anna.

With Ellen's help, Laura was hoisted to her feet and she leant against the other woman for support.

"Can you make it to Cottle's?" Ellen slipped an arm around Laura's waist and held more of her weight; she felt light as a feather.

"No." Laura shook her head weakly; people couldn't see her like this – that was just what the cylons had wanted, "take me home – have him come to me."

"Our tent is nearer," Ellen seemed to understand. "I'll take you there…come on."

They moved as swiftly as possible towards the settlement - Laura's bare feet slipping on the mud covered walk ways; her strength fading with every passing second.

"Did you..." Ellen paused and took a deep breath. "Did you see Saul? Is my husband alive?"

"I…" Laura felt a burning in her abdomen and she moved her hand to clutch at her waist as it started to cramp – she had to keep moving. "He's alive…Gods this hurts…" Her face contorted in agony and she closed her eyes as they moved – praying that Ellen would guide the rest of the way.

Instead, they came to a stop.

"Frak Laura; you're bleeding."

Laura opened her eyes and touched a finger to her lip – to the split that had refused to heal.

"No Laura," Ellen pulled back and Laura followed her gaze. "Your pants are...oh Gods - let's get you to Cottle."

TBC

Thanks for reading


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters below – I am only borrowing them – and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** Thanks for the reviews guys - I really appreciate them. I've had a few from guests recently that I can't reply directly to – so I thought I'd do it here instead :).

Okay…this was a really difficult chapter to write – it's quite an emotional one :(

Thanks to adamalove777 for her help and encouragement and mellow_mel for all the baby stuff ;)

**Warnings:** Sensitive subject matter ahead – this chapter contains references to both miscarriage and abortion.

**The Missing Link Part 2: Chapter 4**

A rustling by Laura's bedside made her stir. Her eyelids fluttered; they felt heavy and fell shut against her will. Every sound appeared muffled; voices could be heard nearby, but she struggled to make out any exact words.

'_I've been drugged…' _Alarm bells rang internally and urged her to leave the bed in which she lay - yet her body would not comply; 'Oh Gods - _I'm back in the detention centre.'_

Groggily, Laura began to move – her hands tingled with pins and needles and she loosely fisted handfuls of the bed sheets. She rolled her head from side to side in an attempt to shake the drug induced fog that filled her mind, but when a pair of heavy hands landed on her shoulders - panic truly set in.

She began to thrash around; her whole body desperately trying to escape the hands that pinned her to the mattress. Her forearms were like a dead weight; they felt almost completely numb – it was as if she had lay on them for hours. As she flailed helplessly on the bed, her limbs arms flopped around - lifeless from the elbow down - connecting with hard and soft surfaces alike.

She saw blurry glimpses of white lab coats, blood soiled sheets and medical tools.

Then suddenly - the sound of something heavy falling to the floor cut though her panic and she stilled her movements. In a moment of clarity, Laura heard the curse filled rant that followed the crash – and recognition calmed her.

As she settled back down on the mattress, exhaustion consuming her once more - the smell of stale cigarette smoke confirmed her location.

She was safe.

xXx

Two hours later, Laura awoke with a clearer head.

"Water," She croaked, her voice sounding far away – even to her own ears. She blinked sleepily before awkwardly beginning to edge herself up the bed and onto the pillows. Her movement was restricted by medical tape that held her shoulder in place; her arms felt weak. She also noted, with some distaste, that she wasn't wearing anything on top but her bra.

As Doc Cottle approached, Laura pulled the bed sheets up higher around her chest – thankful that she had now regained the use of both of her arms.

"Oh relax," He reached behind her and pulled the pillows into a more supportive position, "I've seen 'em before."

Laura settled back, and glared at the doctor - still clutching the blankets to her chest. "Don't you have any gowns?"

"You're lucky you've got a bed, young lady. " He retorted irritably, passing Laura a metal beaker of water. She eagerly clasped the offering with one hand and began gulp down the cool liquid contained within – soothing her parched throat.

"Easy," Cottle placed his hand around the container but didn't remove it from her fingers. "Sip it."

Laura nodded in understanding and rested the beaker on her lap. She looked about the tent; thankful they were alone – she wondered how many people had seen her wounded state as she stumbled from the prison. News of her injuries would travel like a ripple across the settlements - giving the cylons exactly what they wanted.

'_How did I even get here? We were headed for Ellen's tent…' _Everything was a blur; Laura still felt the effects of whatever she had been medicated with.

She turned her attention back to the physician; strategically placing her arm to keep the sheet in place, Laura brought a hand to her woozy head. "What the hell did you give me?"

"Are you still in pain?" Cottle stood back, casting his doctor's eye over her.

"I...No," she realised, and shook her softly.

"Then it doesn't matter," he replied mysteriously - settling on the edge of the bed and pulling a cigarette from the confines of his coat pocket.

Laura thought about pressing Cottle on the issue but thought better of it; since the Cylons had taken control of medical supplies, only the Gods knew what local plant life doctors had to resort to when treating the masses.

Cottle lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled sharply; letting the smoke coil freely from his nose as he spoke; "how much do you remember?"

"I remember bits…glimpses really," she took a tentative sip of the water and frowned. "The detention centre…they let me go."

He nodded, "Ellen Tigh found you wandering outside the gates."

"Yes," Laura spoke slowly, replaying the images in her mind's eye. "Yes, I remember..."

"She just about managed to drag you in here,"

"I don't remember that," she spoke weakly.

"You were semi-conscious; not surprising considering they beat the living crap out of you…" He placed the cigarette between his teeth and spoke though the corner of his mouth as he got to his feet. "Raise your left arm for me."

"I wouldn't talk." Laura offered in explanation as she complied, placing the water on a medical tray at the side of her bed.

Cottle took her wrist gently in his hand and shifted her arm through a series of positions, "does that hurt?"

"No," She shook her head again - closed her eyes and exhaled, dropping her arm back onto to her lap. "I...I think I've had the virus…"

"Sickness?"

"Yes," she opened her eyes, "almost every day."

"Feeling weak? Easily agitated?"

She frowned, "Well…yes - I've not been able to keep much of my food down."

He took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly; his wise eyes watching her closely. "You've not had the virus, Laura," he finally said.

"I haven't?" When Cottle didn't answer immediately, Laura searched his eyes for a hint. She inhaled sharply when all she saw was concern; an expression from the doctor that she knew too well. '_It's back_.'

"Look," he said sternly, turning away from her scrutiny and pushing a hand through his white hair. "There's no nice way to say this – so I'm just going to come out with it…"

Laura's heart sank; she'd been here before. "Doctor Cottle, am I sick again?"

"What?" He turned back to face her sharply - a frown creasing his weathered brow.

"My cancer," she said simply. "Is it back?"

"Gods no," Cottle snapped. "Stop guessing," he crossed the tent to his desk and stubbed the cigarette out in a metal bedpan. After taking a deep breath, he returned to perch on the side of her bed.

A little confused – yet immensely relieved, Laura waited patiently for the tetchy physician to continue; but when he did, she almost laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of his words.

"Laura…you had a miscarriage."

"What?" She asked incredulously.

"Lost a baby." He explained, barely masking the sarcasm in his tone; clearly this was not the reaction he had anticipated.

"I know what a miscarriage is Doctor," Laura bit back. "But that's absurd."

"You're a little old for a bird and the bee's conversation."

"Me being a little old is the issue here," she pursed her lips. "How in the Gods names? I haven't had a period in years – you know that. I used HRT for fraks sake!" Laura raised her voice a little now; she didn't want to believe it. _'It can't be true. Please don't let it be true.'_

"You may recall your recent bout of terminal cancer?"

"So what?" Laura scoffed; bitterness crept into her tone as Cottle's revelation threatened to bring feelings to the surface that she had buried deep down – a long time ago. "Cylon blood can back track early menopause, but it can't heal scars?"

Cottle said nothing; having glimpsed the raw emotion behind Laura's argument - her troubled green eyes revealing painful memories that she was trying so desperately to mask with her words. Instead of pressing her for further details, he chose to wait silently for her to elaborate.

Laura knew that her doctor was awaiting an explanation; but these were wounds that hadn't been opened in almost 15 years.

"I…" her gaze fell to her lap - she didn't know why but she felt unable to face him. " I had an abortion when I was…" Laura paused for a moment; reflecting on that moment in her life.

She had been so young; she wasn't ready to be a parent - emotionally or financially.

She was still in college – her whole life was ahead of her and she certainly had no intention of raising a family with Charles from the debate team.

At the time it had been a surprisingly easy decision for her to make - which in hindsight was proof positive that she really wasn't ready to be a parent. A mature minded individual might have taken more time to ponder such a huge – and for Laura – what turned out to be an ultimately life altering decision.

Cottle was still waiting.

Laura took a deep breath and focussed on the facts; the only way she felt she could keep her emotions in check. "I had a D and C - complications left scarring on my womb. " She looked up at Cottle now, "the damage means that I can't carry a child into the second trimester."

Cottle cleared his throat - despite Laura's matter of fact recollection of events, the pain was still evident in her eyes. "How many..?"

"Six…" She answered quickly, pre-empting his question. "I've had six miscarriages." She dropped her gaze again; her fingers absently fiddling with a loose thread of cotton on the bed sheet. "But I guess that's seven now, right?"

xXx

Later that night, Laura lay in the medical tent - curled up on her side and clutching a pillow; she was alone with her thoughts.

'_I had a miscarriage.'_ Even in her own head, those words sounded ludicrous; she had long ago come to terms with being unable to bear children.

During her illness, Laura had actually been thankful of the fact; she would never have to put somebody she loved through the same pain that she had to endure when her family passed.

'_So why am I torturing myself?'_

She squeezed the pillow against her chest and closed her eyes tightly; holding her breath.

'_The child I aborted would be an adult now,' _she exhaled in a controlled manner.

'_Embryo,'_ she mentally corrected herself.

'_Would my child have survived the attacks? Would they be here with me on New Caprica? _

Laura turned on to her back and stared up at the pitched tarpaulin ceiling.

'_Pointless.'_ She internally scolded herself. '_This is completely pointless; why am I doing this to myself after all these years?'_

She rolled back on to her side and buried her face in the pillow,_ 'Because you just lost Bill Adama's baby_.'

Laura choked back a sob, _'God's Bill, where are you?'_

xXx

Bill sat bolt upright in his rack; his pulse was racing – his back slick with sweat from a nightmare.

As his breathing slowed he recounted his dream; vivid pictures flowed through his mind – grotesque and haunting images that were now forever etched into his psyche.

'_Laura,' _he flopped back onto the mattress, throwing an arm over his eyes as he shut them tightly in a desperate attempt to squeeze the visions from his mind.

_There had been blood. Blood and torture and…a Cylon had her. Laura wouldn't tell him what he needed to know – she kept begging for him to stop but…_

Bills gut lurched and he quickly got to his feet - propelling himself into the head just in time to clutch the edge of the sink.

He emptied the contents of his stomach; heaving again and again until his throat was burned and his eyes streamed with tears. But it wasn't enough to make it disappear - the nausea was still there - nothing would ever be enough.

'_I have to go back for them.' _Bill turned on the tap, rinsing away the smell of bile as he reached for a towel._ 'I have to go back for her…' _He wiped at his chin and stared into the mirror – his haggard reflection stared right back; _'I have to find a way.'_

TBC

Thanks for reading


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters below; I am only borrowing them and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended

Author Notes: Thanks to adamlove777 for the encouragement and beta work & mellow_mel for the baby stuff ;)

The Missing Link: Occupation – Chapter 5

'_Bed rest.'_

A whole week of bed rest.

Injured or not, Laura was climbing the tarpaulin walls after just one day.

Doc Cottle however, was no fool; he had made sure that the former President took her bed rest right under his nose – knowing from experience just how terrible she was at following such instructions.

'_Damn him.' _

So, Laura lay propped up against pillows on a gurney in the corner of the medical tent; an off- white privacy screen did little to seclude her from the grating noises and disgusting smells that came with the tens of patients that Cottle and his team dealt with by the hour.

She rested her head back against the pillows and stared at the canvas roof; it bowed from the weight of rain water – looking as if it might spring a leak at any second.

Laura scoffed at the thought, _'wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake?'_

"Something funny?" Cottle emerged from behind the screen, mistaking her wry chortle for genuine mirth.

She lifted her head from the pillows and stared icily at him through her glasses - adjusting the book that lay on her lap. "I want my own room," she retorted flatly.

"I want doesn't get," the doctor quipped as he approached. "You think I like having you here?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "I think you like to torture me."

"How's your pain?" He ignored her grumblings and reached for her arm, rotating the limb in its socket; causing Laura to wince. "More drugs?"

"No," it did hurt; but there were those with a greater need for pain relief.

Cottle stepped backwards and looked Laura in the eye as he continued to manipulate her shoulder; she bit down on her lower lip to stifle the need to scream. "You sure?"

Laura nodded her head softly. Her declination of medication was not solely down to sacrificing her own comfort to help others – the consistent dull throbbing was a welcome distraction from her memories.

Since Cottle's bombshell, Laura had spent too much time alone with her thoughts.

"Fine," the crotchety doctor huffed - placing her arm gently back at her side, "be a martyr." But as he moved to leave, Laura surprised them both by reaching out to stop him.

"Wait, Doctor…"

Cottle halted his retreat and turned back to face the bed; his gaze wondered from where Laura's small hand clutched at the sleeve of his lab coat, to her green eyes that were moist with unshed tears.

"I…" She paused and cleared her throat, releasing her grip on his arm – tugging gently at the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles she had caused to form. "The…" She paused again; closing her eyes tightly and inhaling deeply through her nose before continuing, "the baby I lost…" Her voice faltered then – no amount of self-control could conceal the emotion behind her words.

"What about it?" Cottle asked in his usual terse manner; but when Laura's eyes met his once more – he knew she had glimpsed empathy in his aged features. The doctor had a 'stiff upper lip' approach to emotional loss, but Laura's vulnerability was testing his resolve.

"Is there any way to know for sure…if the miscarriage…was it…" Laura struggled to find the right words; part of her wanted to say '_my fault_'. Had her own, damaged uterus been to blame for rejecting the unborn child…_'Bill's child'?_

Seeing her inner plight - Cottle offered her an out_; "_you want to know if the scarring caused you to miscarry?"

"They beat me." Her voice was level and her gaze steely, as she recalled her treatment at the prison. "Hera's blood cured my cancer – it kick started my reproductive system. If there's a small chance that it healed my scars too…and that…I wasn't responsible for…"

"You're not responsible!" He cut her off sternly and Laura scoffed at his words, looking back to the spot on the ceiling. "You had a miscarriage – it happens. Given your age, medical history and meagre rations available on this hell hole – the chances of you carrying to full term were minimal, regardless of your scars. The health of the foetus would have been questionable, at best."

"I know." She nodded, turning her head to look at him, "I know all this, Doctor – but what I don't know, is how to explain to you _why_ I need to know what happened…" She dropped her gaze to where her hands lay in her lap, "…I just do."

"I don't have the kit to do that here. It's on Galactica and…"

"Then I'll wait," she interrupted him firmly; her tone signifying her confidence that they would be rescued – the determination in her stare, doing the same.

"Alright then," Cottle conceded with a nod - despite his resistance to help, the doctor did understand. Laura was torturing herself; if the scarring had gone and the Cylons were responsible for her loss, it might alleviate the guilt that burdened her heart.

"Thank you, Doctor." Laura offered him a tight, appreciative smile, before picking up the book that lay next to her on the mattress and opening it to her saved page.

But as Cottle shuffled out of the room, Laura's thoughts drifted from the crime novel she was reading to her conversation with D'Anna. Recalling her time spent at the prison had brought forth another memory; something the Cylon had said in her initial interrogation.

'_What if I had stumbled across something in the settlements? Something that could…ruin that __perfect __reputation of yours.'_

Without knowing it, D'Anna had confirmed something that Laura had long suspected; somewhere in the miasma of shanty homes, was a tent set up for surveillance.

As soon as she was fit, Laura would search out Galen Tyrol; the resistance would find the equipment and destroy it.

xXx

"Why destroy the equipment, when we can use it? If the Cylon's are using the tent; which, let's that assume they are – why don't we use the technology against them?" Galen Tyrol spoke in a hushed tone as they sat on the spectator benches, pretending to watch a game of pyramid. He could only see the back of the former President, but he could tell from the stiffness that had crept into her shoulders that she wasn't enamoured by the idea.

"The device was set up, for whatever reason, to monitor my activity, Chief. You will only find recordings from my home and most likely my school…" The thought had occurred to Laura that her 'moment' with Tom Zarek, probably sat amongst the evidence to be destroyed. "...If you mean, what I think you mean by using the equipment against them – it will most likely result in Cylon raids on my classroom; I will not expose the children to that."

"We could destroy it." Sam Anders piped up from his seat to her left, before cheering and whistling at the players on the field; if they were to keep up the pretence of watching the game – they should at least look convincing.

Laura half twisted to face Anders, waiting for him to continue.

"We use two teams; one at the school, one at the surveillance tent."

"A co-ordinated attack."

"Right; first we hold a conversation at the school that purposefully exonerates you of any involvement – before using the device to lead them right into a trap."

"Whilst the other team attacks the surveillance tent?"

"Exactly."

"Seems air-tight to me." Tyrol fidgeted in his seat behind her, causing the rickety structure to shift and groan.

"I hear Colonel Tigh was released. Is he ready for involvement?" Laura knew that Saul Tigh would appreciate the gravity of what was contained in those recordings; having being involved in Officer Wilson's shooting himself. And when it came to co-ordinated attacks against the Cylons – with his years of military experience, Saul Tigh was their best hope.

"He's ready; bastards took his eye – he's more than ready," Anders replied.

Laura fixed her gaze ahead; staring out across the settlements to the tip of the tent that she recognised as her school. It would be a waste to not use the opportunity to gain the resistance some ground.

"Alright," Laura had made her decision. "Just in case there is a backlash, I want the weapons you stashed under the school gone, and the note passing by parents in the resistance stopped."

"Deal."

Laura got to her feet to leave, but before she did, she turned to face Tyrol. "And chief,"

"Yes Ma'am?"

"The recordings; I want you to bring them to me. I will destroy them myself."

TBC

Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Author Notes: Sorry about the wait between chapters guys; started a new job recently and moved house…it's all go in my life right now!

Anyway – only two more chapters to go and this baby will be all wrapped up!

Thanks to adamalove777 for the beta and encouragement – cheers m'dear :)

**The Missing Link Part 2: Chapter 6**

The rumble of semi-automatic gunfire sounded throughout the settlement – yet Laura Roslin failed to react.

Tory eyed her suspiciously. As common a sound as gunfire was in their lives now, Laura's lack of response was alarming to say the least; she was a humanitarian and gun shots could only mean one thing - people were at risk of dying.

"Did you hear that?" The younger woman asked - her eyes wide with disbelief as Laura simply continued to sift through photographs of suspected traitors.

"Yes Tory, I did," Laura scribbled down a name in her journal - pressing harder than necessary with the pen. "I just chose to ignore it, and I suggest…" she lifted her head and fixed her former aide with a glare over her glasses, "…that you do the same."

xXx

Later that night….

"Is this all of it?" Laura asked in a level voice as she descended the stairs into the resistance's lair. The dark, underground cavern was lit by a singular oil lamp that flickered as the hatch-door above them was closed.

"The….the recording device got damaged and…" Galan Tyrol spoke between deep breaths as he stood by a table littered with cassettes and reels of tape; he wiped the sweat that had formed on his brow, on to the sleeve of his tattered beige shirt.

"Is this all of it, _Chief_?" Laura strode confidently towards him; purposely adding an inflection to his rank in the hopes of speeding things along. She needed to know that this was over; that the sinister threat to hers and The Admiral's reputation had been removed – for good.

Tyrol stood up straighter and nodded firmly; irritation evident in his tone. "We grabbed everything we could before they opened fire. Everything is either here and accounted for or shot to shit, Ma'am."

Laura should have been relieved - but the harsh reality of Tyrol's words felt like a sobering slap in the face.

She crossed her arms over her chest and a sinking feeling formed in her gut, as a realisation dawned; people had put their lives at risk to serve her _personal_ agenda.

'_What the hell is wrong with me?'_

This was the first time since she had formulated the plan, that Laura had given any thought to the well-being of others; it appeared that the time she had spent on New Caprica had hardened her.

"Sorry, Chief I…" She closed her eyes temporarily - shaking her head softly as she paused to swallow; her throat felt tight, "…is everybody that was involved in the retrieval alright?"

"We're at war;" Tyrol frowned – surprised by the turn in her demeanour, "our members are soldiers, Ma'am – they knew what they were getting themselves into."

"Chief, please…Was anybody hurt?" she pressed.

"They're fine." He spoke sincerely, reading the concern in the former leader's eyes. "A few cuts and bruises – but no human fatalities."

"Thank the Gods," Laura breathed a sigh of relief - and for the first time in months, a genuine smile touched her lips. "Really, good job Chief. Thank you."

xXx

Flames danced against the night sky and Laura watched wistfully as the smoke carried away with it, the feeling of dread she had lived with since hearing the recording for the very first time.

In light of recent atrocities; Laura knew it was wrong to feel such relief. Yet destroying the evidence; hearing the crackle of it burning, watching it melt in front of her…it gave her closure.

To the listener, those recordings would tell a story; a twisted audio tale of her time spent on New Caprica. A time filled first with uncertainty, then of love, then of loss…then of pain.

Laura now understood that her single minded approach to retrieve this evidence from the Cylon's, had been borne not of the need to protect her reputation – but of her need to recover from the emotional heartache that had proceeded her arrival on New Caprica.

She was drawing a line beneath the pain and the anguish; this was her coping – this was her moving on.

But then, there was still the question of who was behind the surveillance…

'_If the Cylon's infiltrated the recording device…does that mean that the human element collaborated? Or have they been killed? Or maybe imprisoned?' _

Despite the heat from the fire, Laura shuddered; closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to push back the anxiety that was creeping up her spine._ 'It's over Laura – let it go.' _

She tugged the sleeve of her sweater over her hand and held it to her mouth, as the pungent smell of burning plastic drifted towards her. Even though curfew was about to start, Laura couldn't tear herself away from the fire.

As her weary, green eyes traced the path of smoke – her gaze shifted skywards and she allowed the heat of the fire to warm her face, and memories of The Admiral to thaw her heart.

Focussing on a remote blinking star, Laura Roslin made a silent plea.

'_We're ready Galactica; come and save us_.'

xXx

Days later, Laura was taken into custody. But this time, there was no cold prison cell awaiting her – no President Baltar with his pathetic attempts to bring her on side against the resistance. This time, it was different.

Rather than being frogmarched through the settlements from her school to the prison, Laura was bundled onto the back of a truck where her hands were bound by cable-ties.

She looked around at the faces of her fellow passengers and quickly realised that she was within the company of soldiers and others of standing within the community; many of whom, like her, had spent time at the prison.

'_That can't be good.' _

Since her first, traumatic interrogation at the hands of the Cylon's, Laura had spent several more nights in detention; the interrogator was often different, but the questions and ultimately the outcome were always the same.

She would leave with fresh bruises - they would gain nothing.

However the recent spate of suicide bombings had certainly turned things up a notch; centurion presence had been increased and more and more colonials were being dragged in for questioning - President Baltar had even made a personal appearance at Laura's last interrogation.

Colonel Tigh had called it battle, Galen Tyrol said they were at war; to Laura they were merely fighting for survival and suicide bombing augmented mortality. The thought of men and women blowing themselves to pieces, sickened her – but desperate times called for desperate measures…and it seemed to be working.

In the face of her current predicament however, Laura feared just what the Cylon reaction to the resistance's desperate act of violence would be.

The truck ground to a halt and Laura could see that they had joined a second vehicle that was parked in front of the prison. She watched as tens of colonial prisoners emerged from behind the large metal gates and were loaded at gun point onto the trucks.

A familiar face caught her eye.

As Vice President Zarek stood in line to be loaded on to a vehicle, Laura felt a flutter in her stomach; it wasn't a pleasant feeling – nor did it make her want to vomit…but it was an odd sensation nonetheless.

She hadn't seen Tom Zarek since his public outburst; she hadn't spoken with him since their late-night drunken fumble at the school.

"Shit," She muttered, as she realised that he was being ushered onto the back of her very truck; she quickly gathered her thoughts as he dragged himself up to sit next to her.

"Need a lift, Vice President?" Laura painted on her best 'politicians smile' and said the first thing that came to mind.

She wasn't sure why she felt the need to say something witty, when a simple 'hello' would have sufficed. She only hoped that considering their last 'encounter', he wouldn't think that she was flirting with him.

"I guess so." Zarek matched Laura's smile with a brighter one – his however, seemed more sincere.

"Haven't seen much of you lately – been busy these days, huh?" It was a strange time to make small talk - as they sat, arms bound in the back of a truck that was taking them to a destination unknown – but it delayed the inevitable awkwardness of discussing 'that' night.

"Well, not much to do in detention."

Laura had assumed Tom Zarek was in the prison; he hadn't been seen by man nor beast since the very first weeks of Cylon invasion. Considering his history - the Cylon's had probably considered him a treat since day one.

Laura looked at Tom more closely; he had a graze at his temple and a cut on his lip – he seemed slimmer than usual and was lacking the presence that he usually had. "How long have you been held?"

"Four months, I think…" He shrugged, "I told Baltar that I wouldn't have any part in collaborating with the Cylons - and he got a little pissed."

If there was one good thing that could be said about Vice President Zarek, it was that he didn't share President Baltar's predisposition for self-preservation. Laura admired his bravery, and offered him a more genuine smile – raising her hands to show the cable ties that bound her wrists, "He's a little pissed at me too."

He smiled back, although this time - the smile didn't reach his eyes.

The sound of the engine sputtering into action interrupted their conversation and as the truck moved away from the gates of the prison, a silence filled the space between them.

A short while later - it was Zarek that broke it; "where do you think they are taking us?"

"I don't know." Laura shook her head softly as she surveyed the other passengers in the truck, "but judging by the calibre of the cargo - nowhere pleasant."

Zarek nodded, lowering his voice further and casually letting his gaze drift out of the back of the open truck. "How are things on the outside? There are whispers of an army…"

"The resistance is growing," Laura agreed, shifting closer to him and lowering her voice to an almost whisper. "Small food and medicine rations are the main drivers – rates of death from disease are rising…People are desperate..."

"I heard about the suicide bombings."

Laura twisted to face him, a lopsided smile touching her lips; "someone on the outside keeping you in the loop, Mr Vice President?"

"Something like that," he smiled thinly. "What about you, Laura? I know you don't like guns – but are you keeping a hand in?"

"We all play our part, Tom." Laura answered coyly, before settling back against the bench.

Despite their recent history (or maybe because of it) she wasn't entirely comfortable sharing the resistance's secrets with an, albeit ostracised member of Baltar's political party - and something he'd just said was niggling at her.

After a few beats, she voiced her concerns; "what makes you think that I don't like guns?"

Zarek frowned; shifting in his seat to focus directly on her; "I believe you mentioned it when you were interrogating Officer Wilson."

'_Did I?' _Laura looked puzzled; she had been so angry that night, and admittedly everything was a blur – but she was threatening Wilson with the gun and Zarek had been the one trying to calm her down.

Eventually, doubting her own memory – Laura conceded with a nod. "Right…of course."

The remainder of their journey was spent in silence, until the truck ground to a halt.

"Everybody out - 5 minute rest break!" A member of the New Caprican police banged his weapon on the side of the truck. "Come on – move!"

As Laura and her fellow passengers clambered off of the back of the vehicle and on to the dirt track, her brain was working overtime; no matter how many times she went over the night that Officer Wilson was shot – she couldn't remember discussing her dislike of firearms with Zarek.

In fact, the only person Laura could remember telling that she didn't like guns, was Bill…and that was in the privacy of her tent.

TBC

Thanks for reading guys! I love to get reviews, so please let me know what you think… I don't bite (hard) ;D


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters below; I am only borrowing them and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended

**Authors notes:** Thanks heaps to adamalove 777 for the beta work :D! This chapter picks up directly after the last…

**The Missing Link Part 2: Chapter 7**

Centurion guards marched over the ridge - guns armed and pointing directly at the prisoners.

It was a trap; the Cylon's had been leading them to their deaths. The suicide bombings that Laura had verbally condemned - were indeed the catalyst that tipped the scales from racial oppression to mass-genocide.

Their enemy opened fire and the detainees dove to the floor; instinctively Laura clutched onto Zarek's jumpsuit, dragging him with her and together they rolled down an embankment. She didn't think about the recordings – about the Vice President's probable involvement. That very moment was about man versus machine - and a decent one or not – Tom Zarek was still human.

The terrain was hard beneath them as they tumbled down the uneven surface – dust clouds forming as they hit level ground. The impact caused them to separate - and winded, Laura scrambled for the cover of a nearby ridge.

Tucking her head under her arms, she prayed for the bloodshed to stop.

Her eyes remained tightly closed; her face was pressed into the earth below, her heart pounding heavily in her chest, as scenes of New Caprican life flitted by behind her closed lids. She thought of the school, of the children, of Maya, of Isis…but mostly, Laura thought of Bill.

Those few words that remained unspoken echoed around her mind, drowning out the sounds of bullets been fired overhead.

'_I need more time.' _

And just like that, the gunfire stopped…

xXx

Stunned, Laura rose to her knees and dusted down her clothes as best she could with her wrists still bound. She straightened her glasses and took in the scene around her; the other prisoners seemed similarly confused.

Human's and Cylon's alike were lying on the ground – some were moving and some were not.

Laura crawled towards Zarek. They'd hit the ground pretty hard and even though he was tight lipped about his treatment in detention – she knew The Vice President was probably hiding a multitude of injuries under his jump suit.

"You alright, Tom?" Considering her suspicions, Laura was surprised that she even cared. But deep down, despite his possible betrayal - part of her really did care…It was the same part of her that wanted to be proved wrong.

Tom Zarek had been a friend to Laura on New Caprica – and she truly hoped that it was not all a façade.

"It's been a while since I had a woman throw me to the ground," Tom was breathless from the fall. "It's not half as fun as I remember."

Laura laughed at his joke, but the laughter sounded humourless - even to her own ears.

As they clambered to their feet – a familiar voice from above them interrupted her musings; "You alright down there?"

Laura's gaze travelled up to the ridge, to see Chief Tyrol; the resistance had found them - they had been saved.

"Oh my Gods," she smiled broadly up at Tyrol as his wife Cally came to join him at his side. "It's good to see you Chief!"

He matched her smile, "It's good to see you too Ma'am."

"What happens now?" Cally asked the obvious question, tucking herself under her husband's arm. "Where do we go from here?"

"We're going home."

It felt to Laura as though her heart flipped inside her chest.

'_Did he just say 'home'?' _

Unsure if she had just heard him correctly, Laura frowned and moved closer.

"We're going home." The chief reiterated, louder that time. "Admiral Adama's on his way. We're getting off this rock and going back to Galactica."

Laura almost collapsed - her knees buckled; the relief was overwhelming.

After all this time, they were finally going home.

She looked to the heavens '_thank you._'

xXx

Chaos ensued; until suddenly - it didn't.

Laura observed the calm after the storm from a familiar position on Colonial One; her New Caprican journal resting under her shaking hands, atop the Presidential desk.

They were in the air now, free from their captors - their destination - Galactica. To Laura, the whole thing seemed so surreal.

Her body was abuzz with adrenaline; both the trauma of the exodus from New Caprica and the thought of being reunited with Bill, caused her heart rate to rise and her palms to sweat.

She wiped them on the front of her tattered beige sweater, before clutching the side the desk and exhaling slowly.

Tory caught her eye and the younger woman smiled softly; Laura reciprocated with a weak smile of her own as she felt FTL drive kick in.

They had begun the jump sequence though space, which would bring them closer to home.

xXx

"Adama! Adama! Adama!" The rescued New Caprican's hoisted their Admiral into the air – chanting his name and cheering their thanks.

Bill smiled outwardly at their joviality, yet on the inside Saul Tigh's parting words had cut straight to his heart.

New Caprica had claimed the life of Ellen Tigh.

As the Admiral was carried through the hanger deck, he kept his eyes on his old friend as he hobbled on a walking stick - retreating to his quarters.

Saul Tigh appeared a shell of the man he once was; his frailty was disturbing to Bill. It was clear that the death of Saul's wife had broken his heart - yet the Admiral assumed that it was treatment at the hands of the Cylon's that had weakened his friend's body.

'_The Cylon's tortured them,' _Bill's worst fears were confirmed _'I left them behind to be tortured.'_

However in that moment, the feeling of guilt came second to an overwhelming feeling of dread; Bill was yet to see Laura.

xXx

Hastily retreating from the celebrations on the hanger deck, Bill descended the ladder and stalked down the busy corridor towards the CIC – his eyes searching for Laura as he moved. The slightest hint of red hair drew his eyes to a person and every time his heart fluttered with anticipation, but every time he was disappointed.

"Admiral on deck."

Bill reached his destination and observed the damage; sparks flew from apparatus all around him as the crew worked hard to patch up his ship – but it was dradis that drew his attention.

Another ship had just appeared.

"Admiral," the voice of the communications officer demanded his attention away from the blinking dots on the monitor. "Colonial One just jumped into orbit, Sir."

"Gaius Baltar," Bill narrowed his eyes; the very thought of that man still breathing caused his blood pressure to rise and he felt the anger well within… that was until he heard her voice.

"Galactica – this is Laura Roslin."

'_Laura,'_

Bill instantly reached for the comm, wanting nothing more than to tell Laura how much he had missed her. To explain how he was sorry for how they'd parted ways and to apologise for leaving her behind…He wanted to tell her again, that he loved her.

But all eyes in the CIC were on the Admiral – so those words would have to wait.

Bill steeled himself; "Coloninal One, this is Galactica actual. Welcome back."

He heard her exhale; Laura's relief at hearing his voice drifted over the airwaves and he felt it wrap around him like a warm blanket.

She was safe.

"Admiral Adama," Laura's voice quivered noticeably with emotion. "It's good to hear your voice."

Bill smiled genuinely for the first time since the exodus; "it's good to hear yours too, Laura."

TBC

So…there you go – the penultimate chapter is complete. It felt like the perfect place to leave it in preparation for the 'actual reunion', which you'll be glad to know I have already started!

Tbh – I'm a little sad it's almost over *sniff*

Thanks for reading :)


End file.
